


I plead guilty

by mrshopkirk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Angst, Broken Bucky Barnes, Broken Hearts, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Mild Smut, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Protective Steve Rogers, Redemption, Repentance, Romantic Fluff, Shitty Ex Boyfriend, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Swearing, hurting other's feelings, just read i guess, post winter soldier, reference to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22910230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshopkirk/pseuds/mrshopkirk
Summary: After your longtime boyfriend dumps you, you are left feeling hurt and humiliated, and you want revenge on all men. Or maybe just the first man you lay your eyes on in the bar and that gorgeous dark-haired man looks like he can take one for the team.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Tumblr.  
Inspired by the song “Criminal” by Fiona Apple.

Three years. Three years of pining after your now ex-boyfriend in college. Three years of seeing girls confidently flaunt around him, of hoping to be seen but being overlooked instead. Then came the official dance where you had watched from the crowd how he had been voted most popular guy and with his equally popular, picture perfect girlfriend next to him it was again made painstakingly clear he was out of your league. Later that evening you had found him wasted, slumped against his car in the parking lot, long abandoned by his friends. Your stomach had made a flip when he had smiled up at you when you gently had shaken his shoulder and crouched down next to him asking if he was okay. _Your eyes are incredible_, he had whispered and cupped your face. Your cheeks had burned under his touch and he just had that effect on you where your whole face lit up and you had flashed him your broadest smile. _Come here_, he had said and kissed you. Fireworks. The fireworks had blinded you because when morning came he still had his girlfriend and you had been left behind with your incredible eyes and your broken heart.

The first years working were amongst the best you had, looking back at it now. He became a distant memory but once the holidays came around and you went back to your hometown you felt a flare of hope surge through you whenever you spotted him. His apology for that drunken kiss he offered the first time you saw him again was quickly dismissed by you although that didn’t ease the sting. A few years later he chuckled and accepted your offer to grab a cup of coffee _because I have a job now_. You never noticed the times you lost his attention whenever a gorgeous woman past him by. You were just happy to be around him.

Christmas drinks in the local bar the next year were fun. You couldn’t hide that you loved the way he touched your hand and he certainly noticed. Standing against your car outside, your icy nose bumped his when his hot lips slid over yours. Fireworks. When you went back to the bar barely half an hour later to grab your forgotten phone, it seemed he had already forgotten about you as a pretty blonde had her red lips on him and her equally red manicured fingernails in his hair. You would later find out she was his girlfriend. It hurt though you barely knew each other if you were honest but you had put him on this mile high pedestal long ago and he was there to stay.

It was Easter when you ran into him again. He looked tired and you caved again. You became his shoulder to lean on that afternoon, listening to his monologue about the blonde you had seen him with. _She is all sorts of pretty on the outside but hiding all the ugliness underneath her looks and make-up_, he said. He was sorry you saw that on Christmas. He was sorry he hadn’t recognized a good thing when it stared him in the face. _But I see it clearly now_, he said while you were lying naked in his arms that night. You were on cloud nine the next few weeks until you found out he hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend yet. _It is just bad timing_, he said. Even though you were officially his girlfriend that same week, your friends warned you. He had cheated twice already, left you broken hearted that Christmas. You knew they were right but he was finally yours. You moved in almost immediately because he really wanted you to. He preferred his modern, minimalistic loft so you gave up your cozy apartment. Your furniture was sold_._

Then came the nights out with his friends when he drank too much and became flirty with the waitresses. He almost ravished you every time you came home and you loved him and he loved you. _It was an accident, an honest mistake_, he said after he accidentally called out someone else’s name. Next Friday night you learned it was the name of the married waitress that politely ignored all his comments and sent apologetic looks in your direction. The next time an accident like that happened, it was the name of his secretary that accompanied his climax.

_Why don’t you shave your legs every day? Why don’t you wax? Do you always have to wear sneakers and blue jeans? Why does that guy from work have your number? Maybe it’s time to hit the gym because, well, you know, don’t you, honey?_

It didn’t all come at once. It just started seeping into your relationship. You weren’t like the other girlfriends in his circle of friends, not as ambitious, not as skinny, not as dolled up, not that much into make-up. But he liked that you knew all about Star Wars and Marvel, or that you watched sports with him. It set you apart from the rest, as did your weird sense of humor and you knew for a fact he was hooked on some of your bedroom moves. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good either.

You weren’t sure if it came as a surprise that mister perfect blew up your world when he casually announced over dinner that he had enough of this relationship._ I think she’s a better match for me future wise_, he said like it was some business plan as his ex-girlfriend had come back strutting into his life in stiletto heels.

What really ripped your heart in two was his answer to a simple question. _Why did you leave her if she was that perfect? _The cold shrug he gave and total disregard of your feelings was enough to freeze the air in your lungs. _She was high maintenance back then. You were just, well, there. _You were a convenience in his life. That’s it. That’s all you had been. Now it was time for him to upgrade, leaving you humiliated and broken.

Fuck men.

Fuck. Them. All.

And now you’re here, in a bar, with your friends, and inwardly seething at the sight of each and every man, victims of your clouded judgment. There is simply no reasoning with you. They are all the same, all cheaters, liars and superficial assholes.

“Babe, I love you but I really don’t think you can take revenge on all men,” your friend says.

You huff in response. She’s right, but you don’t care.

“Maybe not on all of them, but I’ll start with that one.” You point to a dark-haired man sitting on a bar stool, nursing his drink in his hands and minding his own business. That’s good, you think. He doesn’t know what’s coming just like you didn’t. “I’ll rip him to pieces,” you hiss and throw back the remainder of your drink. Purposefully you walk over, ignoring the pleas of your friend, and lean on the bar next to him.

“Hey, handsome. What’s your name?” Though your voice sounds cold and affectionless, he turns to you.

“Bucky.” He swallows thickly, taken by surprise. “What’s yours?” He actually smiles like he can’t believe someone takes the time to talk to him, which is surprising considering he’s pretty much the definition of sex on legs. He sits a bit straighter and smoothens back his hair, not so much as to impress you but as it’s the proper way to talk to a lady like he’s been taught him. And you’ll be damned if those aren’t the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen.

“Does that really matter?” you coo, trailing your finger up and down his muscular arm.

“Having a name to remember matters,” he softly replies and you can’t quite place the reason for the furrow of his brows and sudden sadness on his face.

You reach out to touch his cheek soothingly but pull back immediately because being kind to your ex was what got you in trouble in the first place. You were not falling for that again. You want revenge.

“How about I tell you on the way to your place?”

Bucky is taken aback at such forwardness. “Why the hurry?”

“I know what I want,” you state.

It’s not a lie. You don’t want _him_ per se though he is an extremely nice-looking specimen with a dark stubble on his cheeks and shoulder length brown hair and a red Henley stretched over his broad back and chest, not to mention that fine looking ass. You want to get your fun with a guy and leave him for what he is in the morning. Of course it’s your fucking luck that you picked the one guy that looks like he has his pick of the litter and could fuck for hours but wants to wine and dine first. If you didn’t know better you’d mistake his nervously chewing his lip for actually contemplating if taking you up on your offer is a decent thing to do instead of playing hard to get like you’re convincing yourself he’s doing.

“I have a motorcycle outside, but I can’t take you back to my place. I have a, uh,” he clears his throat, “roommate.”

You snort. Sure, _roommate_. Okay, so you won’t be sneaking out like planned, but maybe kicking him out will give more satisfaction.

“Okay, let’s go to my place then, big boy.”

Bucky clumsily gets up from the barstool and pats his pockets to locate his keys. He smoothens down his shirt and gallantly extends his arm to let you pass first. What the fuck is wrong with this man? Giving you his helmet for the Harley Davidson that waits for him outside the bar, he gets on the bike and lets the engine roar. He maneuvers through traffic skillfully. His heart beats erratically under your hands whenever you tighten your grip around him. A small smile blossoms on your face, finding it endearing that a man these days can still react so purely to an innocent touch.

Being mean is not in your nature and you consider ending this war on men so many times in the brief time you spend with Bucky, only to continue whenever the smallest detail triggers a bad memory of your ex-boyfriend. Even when your mood turns sour, the shy smile of this stranger pulls out a smile of your own. It makes him look so proud that it warms your heart.

When the door of your apartment closes behind you, you turn around and try to push him against the wall, but he simply takes your coat like a gentleman and leaves you totally flabbergasted. He agreed to a one-night stand, but still takes his time to treat you like a lady.

Still standing nailed to the same spot in the hallway, he walks over to you, a gentle smile gracing his face, and takes your hand in his to pull you flush to him with a small tug. You land against his chest with a little oomph while his hand snakes around your waist and holds you close before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You wonder if you have ever seen a man’s eyes flutter close so contently for kissing you but you come up blank. It’s like he wants to be nowhere else but in your arms, the entire world be damned. You allow yourself to stray from your mission just a few moments and enjoy the feeling of his warm lips on yours. Fireworks. Like the fourth of July.

This is not supposed to happen so you pull back abruptly. There’s a glimmer of doubt in his eyes but he pulls you back in with the sexiest grin you have ever seen. There’s no denying it. This man has you under his spell already and it angers you.

“Bedroom. Now,” you order.

He grins again. “Yes, ma’am.”

You push him on your bed and waste no time in crawling between his legs and unbuttoning his jeans.

“Do we really have to rush this?” There’s a sad tone in his voice, making your heart ache for a second.

“You don’t want this?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Then just lay back,” you say without even sparing him a glance. You hear his head fall back on the matrass and, if you didn’t know men better, you’d think a disappointed sigh escaped that beautiful mouth. Determined you hardly take any time at all to take off his jeans and boxers, haphazardly throwing them in a corner. When you turn back around, you freeze. That’s one hell of an impressive hard on he’s rocking. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Thank god it’s Friday night because you’re sure you’ll need an entire weekend to recuperate from this ride. Maybe you should take Monday off as well.

He sees you staring and actually has the audacity to blush. There’s no way he doesn’t know how fucking good looking he is. Bucky sits up to take off his Henley and the gloves he’s still wearing from the bike ride.

“Keep them on,” you deadpan and swear his entire body deflates like all the confidence is sucked out of him but you remind yourself it’s not about him. It’s about you. You don’t care about him, right? You straddle him again, placing your hands flat on his chest. “Now show me what moves you’ve got, Bucky.”

He smiles and flips you over without warning. The surprised yelp leaving your lips makes him chuckle. Instead of yanking your shirt off and taking the shortest route to the finish line like your ex did, he takes his precious time to undress you. Brushing your hair aside, he slowly kisses you neck while his hands reach for the hem of your shirt, agonizingly steadily pulling it up and over your head. The brush of the leather gloves against your skin leaves you more aroused than you have ever been. Bucky runs his thumbs along the underside of your bra all the way to your back before gently unclasping it. You let him slide the straps off your shoulders and close your eyes while you feel his slightly chapped lips on every newly revealed inch of your skin. Your hands grab the sheets underneath you, turning your knuckles white.

While his hand slides down your side to your hip, the other softly brushes away lose strands of hair and his lips ghost over your neck. His breath fans over your lips before he kisses you like there is no yesterday and no tomorrow, only now, only the two of you. His kisses are slow, deep and all consuming. Fireworks. Like the fourth of July. All there is left for you to do, is to let go.

He pulls down your panties along with your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. When he slides his hands over your legs, you clench your teeth as you feel the slight stubble on your legs and you hear that old disapproving voice of your ex in your head. You wait for the moment that Bucky will let go of your legs and move on to some silky smooth part of your body, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. It bothers you though. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, but the moment Bucky’s lips and tongue find their way between your legs, all thoughts evaporate. He pays attention. He actually is fucking paying attention. He learns what you like and how to draw out the most pleasure in you at a fast pace. It’s all about you. He makes it all about you and you couldn’t even stop the biggest orgasm of your life if you tried to.

You pull him to you by his hair. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth in what is no doubt pain and pleasure at the same time. “Now,” you hiss. Pushing your legs apart with his knee, he slides his hand from your thighs to your hips and pulls you flush against him. Slowly pushing himself into you, he carefully watches your expression, looking for the smallest sign of discomfort.

“Harder”, you tell him though your command comes out more like a groan.

“Yes, ma’am.” He obliges your wish with a grin, but you’re sure if it was up to him, he would have gone slow and sweet.

You meet his kind eyes with the closing of yours. This is not how you’d thought you’d feel. He makes you feel good, wanted, appreciated for everything that you are, and he does it all without words in that short time since you’ve met. That’s all it takes for you to let go again and just melt under his touch, taking him over the edge with you after a few last thrusts from him. It washes over you like a tidal wave, making you tremble and see every star in the galaxy. All you manage to do is whisper his name over and over again. _Bucky_. _Bucky. Bucky._

He crawls to you, deliciously sexy on all fours, and kisses you sweetly. Fireworks. Like the fourth of July.

“No-one has ever said my name more beautifully, you know,” he whispers with a smile. He drops his head on your pillow next to your face when you give him a tender kiss on his temple, making him sigh happily. You lie like that for a while, his eyes fixed on you while his fingers softly trail nonsense patterns on your arms. Your eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to make sense of what is happening. It’s only then you realize the noise of the motor engine is still lingering in your ear. You rub your ear to try and get rid of it.

“Your ear tickles?” Bucky chuckles.

“It’s the goddamn whirring sound,” you say utterly annoyed, completely missing the paleness settling over Bucky’s face as he holds his left arm perfectly still, his right hand pressing against it trying to muffle any sound it might still make. Shifting on the bed, he draws your attention. He nervously looks up to you from under those thick eyelashes. It makes no sense that a big man like the one occupying more than half of your bed can radiate nothing but sweetness and kindness, but then again, there aren’t many things that make sense in this world, least of all your own behavior lately.

When you realize the warm smile blooming in Bucky’s face is a mirror of your own, you get out of bed. Grabbing his jeans from where it has landed, you toss it in his lap and head straight for the bathroom. Bracing yourself on the sink, head bowed down, you curse yourself. Damn you for letting your ex make you into this. Damn you for stooping so low as to treat this innocent man this way. Lifting your head you hardly recognize the woman staring back at you in the mirror. Your fingers trace your neck and collarbone. There are no hickeys but you know exactly where his lips have caressed your skin, leaving it wanting for more. The water you splash in your face doesn’t help to clear your conscience so you put on your bathrobe and head back out there.

“Hey,” he meagerly says, his hands tucked in his pockets. When you turn around you meet him with a small smile that soon changes in a sharp look.

“What do you want?”

Bucky licks his lips nervously. “I just want to talk to you. I didn’t, well, I didn’t exactly get the chance.”

“Well, it’s called a one night stand for a reason. I didn’t want you for your conversational skills,” you say exasperatedly though the flash of hurt in Bucky’s eyes throws you off. Men are supposed to be into one night stands and not get hurt.

“I thought-” He runs his hand through his hair and you remember how soft it felt between your fingers and the eucalyptus smell of his shampoo. “I thought I might have put you off or something.”

You blink your eyes. “What?”

“You know, with the arm.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“With what?”

Bucky draws in a deep breath through his nose, his eyes fixed on the ground. “With my arm. You didn’t want me to take off my shirt.”

You have no idea what his arms or one arm apparently have anything to do with you but this conversation is boring you. “No, the arm is fine,” you say as you’re turning your back towards him and find a shirt to put on.

“So it’s my past then that bothers you?” he sighs with resignation.

That’s it. All men do is look for excuses beside themselves, never owning up to their own failures.

“Listen Bucky.” You turn towards him, your eyes fixed on his blue ones that all of a sudden reflect nothing but hope and kindness. “It’s not your arm.” He nods. “It’s not your past.” He sighs happily. “It’s you.”

“Me?” His face drops and his arms fall limp next to his body.

It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Isn’t this what you want, to make a man feel as little and worthless as you had felt? It doesn’t feel right but you’re in too far now. “Yeah, you. Just you,” and you gesture up and down his body, keeping a straight face. “Well, it’s getting late. Your _roommate_ must be worried about you.”

Bucky’s jaw goes slack and after looking intently at you, his eyes leave your face and stare off in some far distant corner of your room. A few seconds later, he staggers to his feet, swaying slightly like he’s drunk. You briefly wonder if he’s going to fall over but he seems to be able to dress perfectly fine on autopilot.

“Bucky?” you worriedly ask.

He looks up at you, pained expression on his face. No, it’s beyond pain. You hurt him so much he’s not feeling anything anymore. He stares at you with a blank expression, his mouth moves but fails to form words and he just resigns to putting on his boots, not bothering lacing them. It worries you about his safety on the bike but decide against telling him and instead watch his retreating figure down the hall. The click of the closing door signals the end of your mission. Was it successful? Not by a long shot.


	2. part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your longtime boyfriend dumps you, you are left feeling hurt and humiliated, and you want revenge on all men. Or maybe just the first man you lay your eyes on in the bar and that gorgeous dark-haired man looks like he can take one for the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted on Tumblr.  
Inspired by the song “Criminal” by Fiona Apple.

Fucking him and kicking out Bucky doesn’t give you the much sought after satisfaction. In fact it does nothing, but make you sick to your stomach. You feel a pang of regret that he left though you were the one that made him leave in the first place. Lying in bed, you bite your nails until your fingers hurt, thinking about everything that happened tonight. You feel disappointed in yourself having stooped to the same level as your ex, maybe even worse. Bucky had nothing to do with it, even seemed like a downright good guy and you mentally curse yourself for being the reason of the hurt you caused him.

When next Friday comes, you have spent the week feeling guilty and distracted at work. You find yourself in the bar again with your friend when the subject of last week’s one night stand comes up.

“You fucking landed Bucky Barnes?! THE Bucky Barnes?” Your friend squeaks. “Oh my god, you have to tell me how it was? You slept with him, right? Please, tell me you did?” She’s pulling your arm and jumping up and down excitedly.

You just nod confused.

“I am so jealous of you right now!” She punches your upper arm a few times and although it’s playful, it still hurts a bit. “Bucky fucking Barnes. Oh man. I can’t believe you fucked the winter soldier.” Your friend sits down on her barstool next you and sips her drink. “So, is the arm as amazing in real life as in the pictures?”

Things start to click in your head. Bucky… Thought his arm had put you off… Or his past… Shit. Your mouth is dry and your heart hammers in your chest, but your friend just rambles on.

“I should have known you’d pick him.” She takes a sip from her beer, leaning back against the counter and not really talking to anyone in particular. “You have a thing for the emotionally damaged. You always go on and on about a poor man needing someone to smother him with affection.” She turns to you, pointing her beer bottle at you. “You’d be perfect for him actually. You’re the homey, affectionate, cuddly type. So when are you seeing him again?”

You stare ahead. That night, Bucky isn’t at the bar. Neither is he the next week or the week after that, but you are determined to make up for the pain you put him through and go to the bar every Friday for the next weeks to come.

_“Hey buddy,” Steve had cautiously asked, “how was your first time out on your own?” He had shyly smiled, hands tucked in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. “You’re home late so I’m guessing good.” Bucky had looked up at him with teary eyes, no words had left his mouth when he had tried to speak. _

His eyes scan the bar until they settle on you and he allows himself to marvel at your beautiful and kind presence for a second. Then anger hits him like a ton of bricks. He draws in a deep breath and walks over.

_Steve had tried his hardest to ignore the sweet smell of a woman’s perfume that night. When he had helped Bucky take off his shirt and put him in bed, he had seen the bite-marks in Bucky’s neck, the hickeys on his chest and the bright red and awfully thick traces on his back. Whoever it was, she really did a number on him, he had thought. These days those marks are usually a good thing. Steve had been on the receiving end several times and he loved it, but whatever happened had left his friend in shambles._

You were happily chatting and drinking with your friends tonight when all of a sudden there’s a rush of whispers in the bar behind you. When you look around you see people whispering and pointing but before you can see what’s happening, you hear a booming voice.

“Which one of you hurt my friend?”

_“Bucky? Do you want to talk about it?” Steve had softly asked._

_Bucky’s eyes bore into Steve’s before he had spoken. “She just- she just fucked me and kicked me out. Didn’t even want me to take my shirt or gloves off.” He got a thousand yard stare and that had been the end of it. _

_For weeks on end, it had Steve worried until he couldn’t take it anymore. He was beyond pissed off._

Whereas Bucky had kind and friendly, sparkly blue eyes and the gentlest smile when you met him, this man’s stare is ice cold and his lips are pursed. You can’t help but notice the offensive stand he takes, arms crossed over his chest and definitely restraining himself from yelling. You feel like you are going to be lectured by your dad, teacher, principal and that scary, stern neighbor whose window you broke when you were a kid all at the same time. And your friends? They simply point their fingers at you.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” you hiss, a deep red blush creeping over your face. “Hello, uh, mister Rogers?” you stammer.

“Oh, don’t you mister Rogers me. Do you have any idea what you did?”

“I-“

“I don’t want to know _why_ you did it. I want to know if you realize _what_ you have done?” His cold stare is replaced by sorrowful eyes on the face of a helpless man. “You broke him. Again.” He shifts on his feet, placing his hands on his hips and as he looks at you. “He was finally getting better, you know? Finally picking up the pieces and you just,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “you just broke him again. For what? For fun?” He looks down and sighs.

You simply sit there with your mouth agape, heart beating rapidly, a cold sweat on your face. _What have I done?_ He’s right. He was innocent in all this.

Steve is about to walk away when he turns around for his final words. “You know, maybe he could have handled it if somehow it was about his arm or his past, but you made it about the whole of him. You dismissed him entirely. You chewed him up and spat him out. You deemed everything that is still his, to not be good enough. Here’s a piece of advice for you. Go nuts on idiots, but don’t break the already broken ones.”

_Everything_. That’s all that runs through your head, on your way home, when you’re lying in bed, in the morning on your way to work. You told him that _everything_ about him wasn’t worth your time, wasn’t good enough. Your throat runs dry. _Everything_. How could you have done that? Even your ex had made you feel good about yourself, or at least to some extent. You feel despicable because deep down you knew. You knew he was a good man. He was sweet and kind, and polite. He was respectful and loved every bit of your body. If you were completely honest, he already had your heart.

Five weeks. Five weeks before Bucky shows up at the bar again, his face pale, his vibrant blue eyes turned dull. You muster up all your courage and walk over. _Hi._ His shoulders tense and he throws some dollar bills on the counter before walking out, his whiskey untouched.

Three weeks later you find yourself in a cab on your way to the Avengers compound. It’s on impulse. You have no plan whatsoever and sigh happily when the woman at the front desk agrees to call Bucky for you. You can hear his laugh down the hallway and then he’s there, looking happy and relaxed, until he sees you. _Hi._ His smile fades. You take a few cautious steps towards him and just like that he’s gone again.

You notice he avoids the bar when you’re there. Your friend said she saw him and he looked happy, but that only makes you unhappy. So the plan you come up with is to ambush him in the bar and jump in front of him. _Hi!_ In retrospect that wasn’t a good plan. Your back hits the wall hard when he twists your arm behind you and suddenly his face is so close. You didn’t plan on kissing him, but you do anyway. Fireworks. Like the fourth of July. For a moment he gets lost in the moment too. When you look at him sadness and confusions is written all over his face. He lets go and walks away.

The next week you send a package to the Avengers compound. _I know you don’t come to the bar because of me. So I bring your whiskey to you._ Although you can’t see it, it makes Bucky smile.

When he shows up at the bar a few weeks later, you had made a deal with the bartender that his drinks are on you. He had asked if you wanted to get the man drunk so he’d go home with you. _I wish._ It was an answer that even surprised you.

When Bucky arrives, you see the bartender talk to him and point in your direction. You raise your glass and so does Bucky with a beautiful smile. No, wait. That’s not beautiful. Well, it is, but that’s a wicked smile. Behind him you see the reason. Steve Rogers. And Tony Stark. And Sam Wilson. And Natasha Romanoff.

Bucky nudges Steve, whispering something in his ear. Oh dear Lord, help me. Your knees buckle when two sets of blue eyes playfully smile in your direction and both of them raise their glasses, followed by the rest of Bucky’s party. Groaning you drop your head on the table you’re seated at, quickly doing the math of how much this night is going to cost you.

But it’s worth it because when you lift your head, your arms hanging limp by your side admitting defeat in the most ridiculous way, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head when he sees your pouted lips. You hastily scribble something on a napkin and hold it for him to see. A small smile still graces his face when he shakes his head. _Please forgive me? _The answer is no.

“Girl, no. You make the worst decisions when you’re drunk and you sound like two mating cats when you sing.”

“I know! But I’m so close. I can feel it.” Karaoke night. Possibly the worst humiliation you will ever suffer. Come on, Fiona Apple, let’s do this.

_I've been a bad, bad girl_   
_I've been careless with a delicate man_   
_And it's a sad, sad world_   
_When a girl will break a boy just because she can_

_Don't you tell me to deny it_   
_I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins_   
_I've come to you 'cause I need guidance to be true_   
_And I just don't know where I can begin_

The applause you get was definitely out of sheer relief you were done. Bucky looked at you with wary eyes and gets off his seat when you walk off the stage. _Hi. It was for you._ He grins and walks out.

“So? What did he say?” your friend asks.

“That I sing beautifully.”

“What?”

You just nod your head. “He wasn’t even kidding.”

“That dude is so in love with you. Has to be because you sound awful. I mean like really, really awful.”

Five long months it takes to break down Bucky’s walls. Maybe it were only four because you’re pretty sure he started to enjoy watching you twist and turn and grovel. After a particularly bad seductive dance in the bar, you clumsily walk over on the high heels you borrowed from your friend.

“You looked good out there.”

“Just for you,” you pant, your bangs plastered to your forehead. “That’s not all by the way.”

“Really?” Bucky chuckles.

“It’s your lucky day. You get to kiss the dancer.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your lucky day. You don’t get to kiss the customer.” Bucky puts down his glass and slowly gets off his bar stool with more swagger and sexier than you’ll ever be in your entire life, and leans in close. “But keep up the good work. Maybe you’ll succeed one day,” he whispers in your ear.

The week has been a disaster. You fucked up an account. _I’m so sorry, boss._ You called the police to report your car stolen, only to find you had it parked somewhere else. _I’m so sorry, officer._ You spilled your coffee over some guy because you were lost in thoughts in the coffee shop. _I’m so sorry, sir._ You have been apologizing every day and you’re swirling your drink when you notice someone standing at your table in the bar. _I’m so sorry, Bucky._ It’s only fitting that you apologize one more time this week.

He smiles when he takes your hands and pulls you from your seat. “Want me to kiss your worries away?”

Fireworks. Like the fourth of July.

You love him. Even if the world comes crushing down tomorrow, you love him. You love the way his fingers intertwine with yours as if that is their natural state, the way he shoots you sideway glances to make sure you’re okay, the way he proudly pushes out his chest when someone looks at you.

He’s not being possessive. He’s just so damn proud you’re his and thinks you’re the fucking catch of the century._ I thought they didn’t make them like you anymore, sweetheart_, he had said one evening when you were watching TV on the couch. You said you were sure they didn’t make them like him anymore and tapped his arm. He is perfect. He is a little rough, he is mushy, he is soft and hard, warm and cold, he is damaged and he is perfect. He is a wonderful boyfriend and an even better man.

Whereas your ex-boyfriend saw flaws in everything, Bucky sees nothing but cute quirks that make you unique. Whereas your ex frowned, Bucky breaks out in a smile. Whereas he huffed, Bucky grins cheerfully. Whereas he walked away, Bucky wraps you in his arms. Whereas he looked at a woman, Bucky has only eyes for you. Whereas he said another woman’s name in the bedroom, Bucky makes sure the world knows who’s in his bed.

There are times you look at the numbers on the weighing scale with a frown or flee to the bathroom, away from his caressing touch, for an emergency shave of your legs, but he won’t have it. _I love every inch and every ounce of you, doll_, Bucky says time after time. _I’ll keep saying it until you believe it yourself._

You feel Bucky’s smile against your lips and break the kiss only to find him smiling with his eyes closed. “What are thinking about, babe?”

“Fireworks. Like the fourth of July,” he whispers.

# Song: Criminal by Fiona Apple

I've been a bad, bad girl  
I've been careless with a delicate man  
And it's a sad, sad world  
When a girl will break a boy just because she can

Don't you tell me to deny it  
I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins  
I've come to you 'cause I need guidance to be true  
And I just don't know where I can begin

What I need is a good defense  
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal  
And I need to be redeemed  
To the one I've sinned against  
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Heaven help me for the way I am  
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done  
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand  
But I keep living this day like the next will never come

Oh help me but don't tell me to deny it  
I've got to cleanse myself of all these lies 'till I'm good enough for him  
I've got a lot to lose and I'm bettin' high so I'm begging you  
Before it ends just tell me where to begin

What I need is a good defense  
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal  
And I need to be redeemed  
To the one I've sinned against  
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Let me know the way  
Before there's hell to pay  
Give me room to lay the law and let me go  
I've got to make a play  
To make my lover stay  
So what would an angel say the devil wants to know

What I need is a good defense  
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal  
And I need to be redeemed  
To the one I've sinned against  
Because he's all I ever knew of love

What I need is a good defense  
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal  
And I need to be redeemed  
To the one I've sinned against  
Because he's all I ever knew of love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you!


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